• Пожаловаться

Maureen Ash: Death of a Squire

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Maureen Ash: Death of a Squire» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию). В некоторых случаях присутствует краткое содержание. категория: Исторический детектив / на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале. Библиотека «Либ Кат» — LibCat.ru создана для любителей полистать хорошую книжку и предлагает широкий выбор жанров:

любовные романы фантастика и фэнтези приключения детективы и триллеры эротика документальные научные юмористические анекдоты о бизнесе проза детские сказки о религиии новинки православные старинные про компьютеры программирование на английском домоводство поэзия

Выбрав категорию по душе Вы сможете найти действительно стоящие книги и насладиться погружением в мир воображения, прочувствовать переживания героев или узнать для себя что-то новое, совершить внутреннее открытие. Подробная информация для ознакомления по текущему запросу представлена ниже:

Maureen Ash Death of a Squire

Death of a Squire: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «Death of a Squire»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.

Maureen Ash: другие книги автора


Кто написал Death of a Squire? Узнайте фамилию, как зовут автора книги и список всех его произведений по сериям.

Death of a Squire — читать онлайн бесплатно полную книгу (весь текст) целиком

Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «Death of a Squire», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Death of a Squire

Maureen Ash

One

Lincolnshire

Late Autumn 1200 A.D.

The trees in the forest were nearly denuded of leaves. Those that remained were brown and curled, rattling with dry whispers when the wind blew. On the forest floor bracken still struggled with life, but dark and musty, full of dead insects and the remains of spiders’ webs. It was quiet, only the distant irritating call of a lone crow marring the silence. The pale sun pushed tentative fingers through the remaining foliage, glistening on the dew that lay thick upon the ground.

High in the branches of an oak tree a man crouched. Dressed all in brown, and with a dark beard covering most of his face, he could hardly be seen as he kept close to the trunk of the tree. Slung from his waist was a quiver of arrows and he held his bow loosely in his left hand, ready for use when his prey appeared. Below him, secreted in the thickness of the undergrowth, were two of his comrades, one on each side of a trail marked with the delicate hoofprints of deer and liberally scattered with droppings. They, too, had arrows and bows at the ready.

The trio had been in their places nearly two hours, since before dawn, for the track was one used by deer to water at a small stream some few hundred yards distant. Their muscles were cramped, and eyes and ears sore from straining to catch some sign of the quarry they were after, but the desperate hunger in their bellies kept them in place.

Finally a movement could be heard, just a gentle thud as a hoof touched bare earth. The deer was a large one and male-perhaps a soar, in his fourth year. Sensing possible danger, the stag paused in mid-stride and lifted a quivering nose to investigate the air for any scent that would tell of an enemy nearby. As he did so, his dappled shape glinted amongst the trunks of the trees, and his antlers could be seen. They were a broken mass of spikes, torn during battle in the recent rutting season. When he finally took a hesitant step forward, there was a meaty ripple of the flesh on his haunches that brought a gush of saliva into the mouths of the waiting men.

Slowly, and with the greatest of care and held breath, the men nocked arrows to their bows. Though they made hardly a sound, the deer became aware of their presence and started to bolt. With a great leap he sprang forward, but his alarm had been triggered a split second too late. The hunter in the tree loosed an arrow that sped like a popping flame true to its mark and buried itself deep in the side of the stag’s neck. The deer faltered but kept to its feet, hooves scrabbling on the ground as it tried to gain purchase to run. Two more arrows flew through the air, one taking the stag in the side, the other lodging in the vulnerable flesh of its underbelly as it crashed to the ground, throwing up a cloud of leaves and rotting vegetation as the heavy body began its death spasms.

“Heigh-ho, we’ve got him!” The yells of the two jubilant hunters on the ground echoed through the quiet wood before being hastily hushed by the man in the tree as he clambered down.

“Quiet, you fools. Do you want every forester from here to Lincoln to know we have made a kill? With the noise you’re making even the sheriff in his keep will be able to hear you.”

Both of his companions immediately fell silent and when one of them spoke, it was in low tones. “Aye, you’re right, Fulcher. Sorry. But it is a rare beast, is it not? And will make good feasting for many a meal. Talli and I just got carried away, that’s all. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t, Berdo. There might still be some villagers around collecting hazelnuts or cutting bracken. At best they’ll want a share of meat; at worst they’ll raise an alarm. Quick now, let’s get done and away before we’re seen.”

The men set to work, slicing meat from the carcass without regard for the niceties of their butchering and stowing the bloody chunks in rough sacks they had brought rolled up and thrust in their belts. When they had hacked off as much as they could carry, they prepared to depart, wiping their knives by thrusting them point first into the earth. Talli, still exuberant with the excitement of their good fortune, pushed aside from the track to relieve his bladder, while Fulcher and Berdo did their best to cover the remains of the kill with handfuls of dead leaves. As they finished, Fulcher quietly called to Talli to hurry.

“You can piss as much as you need once we’re away from here,” he remonstrated. “It won’t be long before Camville’s forester is on his round.”

There was no answer from Talli and both of his comrades looked at him questioningly when he reappeared on the track, white-faced and silent.

Fulcher was the first to react. “What is it, Talli? Are we discovered?” He looked around fearfully, peering down the path the deer had taken, seeking any movement that would indicate the dreaded presence of authority, but there was only stillness and again the raucous call of the crow, this time answered by another of its kind.

Talli came slowly forward. “No, there’s no one about. No one living, that is.” He motioned with his arm towards the ceiling of tree limbs above them. “Look up, over there.”

His companions gazed skyward, in the direction that he was pointing. “Sweet Jesu,” murmured Fulcher. Berdo gripped Talli hard by the arm as he, too, saw what his friend had found.

“I was looking to see what that crow was fussing about,” Talli explained. “Thought it might be they had seen someone we couldn’t. So I looked up… God’s Blood, I wish I hadn’t.”

The trio moved to where Talli had gone to relieve himself, still with upturned faces, their eyes rooted to a spot on the limb of a huge oak tree. There, motionless among the almost bare branches, hung a body, secured to the tree by a rope around the neck. Another rope was tied tightly around the wrists, so that the hands hung together at the corpse’s waist. The face was mottled, tongue extended, eyes popping almost from their sockets. On a nearby tree, the two crows were now perched in silence, watching the men with bright black eyes. In the sky above them more crows were making an appearance, gliding on silent wings in ever-decreasing circles before landing beside their brethren, until the upper branches of the tree were filled with their dark forbidding shapes.

“That’s a fine meal those scavengers will have today,” murmured Talli.

“And fine in more ways than one,” observed Fulcher. “Look at those clothes. Good velvet tunic and woollen hose. Those don’t belong to the likes of us. He’s from a lord’s household, maybe even a lord himself. When he’s found, there’ll be a hue and cry all over Lincoln.”

With long steps he returned to where the sacks of meat waited, the blood already seeping through the rough cloth and forming pools on the ground. “Let’s be away from here, lads. This is nowt to do with us and we best try and keep it that way.”

Berdo remained where he was, then said slowly, “If I stood on your shoulders, Fulcher, we could cut him down. His clothes would make fine pickings, and I think I see a dagger in his belt. We could use that.”

“No,” said Fulcher vehemently. “Like I said, we’d best be away from here. If we’re caught in the act of robbing him, we’ll be blamed for his death as well. I want no part of this.”

“If they catch us, we’ll be hanged for the deer anyway. A man can only die once,” Berdo replied.

“Then you do it on your own, Berdo, without my connivance. If Talli is of a mind to help you with the plunder, then so be it. But I will not.”

Читать дальше

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Похожие книги на «Death of a Squire»

Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «Death of a Squire» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё не прочитанные произведения.


Denise Mina: Exile
Exile
Denise Mina
libclub.ru: книга без обложки
libclub.ru: книга без обложки
Ngaio Marsh
Maureen Ash: A Plague of Poison
A Plague of Poison
Maureen Ash
Отзывы о книге «Death of a Squire»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «Death of a Squire» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.